


Untitled

by AnkaraFerus



Category: Nocturnal Bloodlust
Genre: Fucking on a drum kit, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Visual Kei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnkaraFerus/pseuds/AnkaraFerus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, it always ends up like this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

Somehow, it always ended up like this.

 

They were supposed to be working. They'd reserved the studio for the whole day and it was just he two of them. Drums and guitar. Rhythm and melody. They were supposed to be writing the backbone of some new song or other, not fucking on the drum kit.

 

But, this always happened. Natsu's cold, brutish facade destroyed by Daichi's leather and lace.

 

Daichi sat across his lap, Natsu's hips pressed between his knees and his back laid out over the bass drum, already flushed and squirming as Natsu's rough fingers worked his way down the buttons of his shirt, brushing the newly-bared skin with his knuckles. He stopped when he reached his waistline, allowing the silk shirt to slip open. Daichi shivered under his cold stare, lifting his hips to encourage his journey downward and whimpering as his hands traveled up instead. Natsu pressed the flat of his hand against Daichi's stomach and let it drift over the lines of his abs, his ribcage, his chest.

 

The guitarist's back arched and snares rattled and Natsu rolled his thumb over a hard, pink nipple, giving it a hard pinch. Daichi's little gasps of pleasure, caught in the microphones and amplified in his headset, shot straight to his cock and he growled against the painful tightening of his pants. He felt hot, desperate, almost annoyed by Daichi's effect on him and he roughly jammed their hips together, making him yelp.

 

Daichi wrapped long, leather-clad legs around his waist as the drummer half stood over him, laying him out completely over his drum kit. Daichi's fingers curled around his hips as he sucked at the tender skin of his neck. He pulled a microphone closer until both of their ears were filled with their heavy breathing, each amplified sigh and moan building on each other until their hearts were racing.

 

It always ended up like this. Natsu marking a hot trail down Daichi's chest as the other fumbled with his belt. Making their own music to a staccato beat. Slipping his hand inside, he found Natsu hot and heavy and aching to be touched. He jerked and groaned as Daichi ran his thumb over the head in a slow, teasing circle that made his whole body tense and go electric. He slid a finger across Daichi's jaw and over his lips, pushing his way inside and Daichi sucked hungrily in rhythm with his strokes.

 

Natsu shuddered and struggled for control. Daichi's lazy, lustful eyes. His painted red lips smearing themselves over his fingers. He could have cum right then. But, instead, he gave the bass drum a kick, pushing the rolling stool back and leaving Daichi whimpering and alone, chest bruised, legs spread wide, hair sticking to his face in damp spikes. Even that was almost more than he could take and, with an animal growl, he grabbed at Daichi's waistband and yanked it roughly down to his knees.

 

It always ended up like this. Strong, forceful Natsu down on his knees. Made a slave by Daichi's beauty. He ran his tongue over his inner thigh, making him shiver. He licked his staff from base to tip, making him moan. He slid his slicked-up fingers over his hips and behind him, rubbing and pushing at the sensitive muscles until they opened up, begging for entrance.

 

Daichi screamed and bucked as Natsu took him with his mouth and his fingers at the same time. One hand knotted in Natsu's hair, the other slapping a flat beat on the tom beside him as he writhed. Natsu let loose a growl of satisfaction as Daichi began to cry and plead, his heal digging into Natsu's shoulder as he took him deeper, opening his throat to envelope all of him even as his fingers stroked and prodded.

 

He flicked his eyes up to find Daichi come undone. Sweating and moaning and speaking in tongues. He removed himself again and stood over him, loomed over him, watched his body shake and his fingers twitch and his hips strain towards him. With an almost cruel smile, he dropped his pants to his knees and, grabbing Daichi firmly by the hips, pushed roughly into him.

 

Both men cried out in unison as Natsu fully sheathed himself inside, twitching and groaning as Daichi's muscles contracted around him. Daichi grabbed Natsu by his shirt, pulling him down to him and catching his lips between his teeth. As if on some silent signal, Daichi rocked his hips forward and Natsu began to move in short, piston-like thrusts. Already he was struggling, teeth bared, thighs twitching, so near the edge but unwilling to give in. Cymbals crashed as they were knocked from their stands. Snares popped and rattled. They fucked in a cacophony.

 

It always ended up like this. Cumming like a gunshot in a studio that stank of sex. Hot breath like steam on sweat-cooled skin. Natsu pulling up his pants and separating himself from Daichi for the last time, taking one last, long look at the mess he'd made of him, before tossing him a towel and turning his back. He moved slowly, like a runner after a marathon, and punched a button on a bank of equipment, ejecting a cd and slipping it into his pocket.

 

“Natsu...?” Daichi breathed, pushing himself up on his elbows.

 

“Time's up,” he said flatly, gesturing to the clock. He raked a hand through his hair and shifted his weight, uncomfortable in the sudden silence, before turning and disappearing out the door.

 

Somehow, it always ended up like this.


End file.
